Chapter 112
Cause and Effect (1)
Lucianne couldn’t believe her ears at the judge’s words.
Even execution is merciful?
What had she done that was so wrong? This was absurd.
Axtupia Mine?
Her face twisted in disbelief as she turned around to see Penelope staring back at her, equally horrified.
That place… wasn’t it known as a living hell?
If that was where she was being sent, then she would’ve rather been executed on the spot.
“Did you just say Axtupia Mine? That’s impossible! That place is called a living hell! Even grown men can’t survive there, and now you expect me to go? What have I done to deserve that? Because I brought a sword into the Imperial Palace? Her Majesty the Dowager Empress asked me to bring it, and I only did as she asked! I didn’t know that was enough to be called treason!”
Lucianne’s desperate cries echoed through the courtroom. When she began shouting at the judge over her sentence, he motioned to the guards. They came forward, gagged her as they had Antwait, and tied her to the chair.
Watching the trial unfold, Penelope was just as shaken.
They’re sending Luci where?
“Duke, what is the meaning of this? You promised to spare her life! What’s going on?” Penelope demanded, her face pale as she turned to Ruan.
He shrugged lightly.
“Madam, she was spared, wasn’t she? I promised she would live. I never said she’d be released.”
“I’ve heard that place is so harsh even grown men can’t last long. How is Lucianne—how is a girl supposed to work there? She’s never even touched a drop of cold water with her own hands!”
“That isn’t my concern,” Ruan replied calmly.
“And I told you before, Madam—thank me when the trial is over.”
Penelope turned to Marican, her voice trembling.
“Marican… no, Duchess, this isn’t right, is it? Maybe you could endure that place, but that fragile child? She won’t last ten minutes there, let alone an hour!”
If it were me?
Yes, maybe you monsters would deserve it.
At least then, I wouldn’t have to feel pain over what happens to you.
Marican stood, her expression cold and unmoved, not even deeming Penelope’s words worth answering.
When Penelope tried to approach her as she took Ruan’s arm to leave the courtroom, the guards quickly intervened.
“Please wait, Madam.”
They escorted Penelope beside the restrained Lucianne. Trembling, Penelope looked up at the judge.
“Y-Your Honor, do you have something to say to me?”
“The accused has been found guilty of treason. By Imperial law, her family—yourself, Madam—shall be stripped of your title and all remaining property. Furthermore, you are hereby sentenced to exile from the Empire.”
Penelope’s knees buckled.
Lucianne sentenced to thirty years of hard labor in that accursed place wasn’t enough—they were exiling her, too?
This must be a nightmare.
She fell to her knees and cried out, bowing her head toward the judge.
“T-Treason? And now confiscation and exile? What did I do wrong? Where am I supposed to live if I’m banished from the Empire? Your Honor, please! Take everything—take the money, the house—but please, don’t exile me! What will happen to my daughter if I leave? I beg you!”
But even as Penelope wept and pleaded, the judge only sighed, his face full of reluctant pity.
“I’ll grant you one week. Pack your belongings and leave the Empire within that time.”
“Your Honor!”
“This concludes today’s trial. Court is adjourned.”
“W-wait! Your Honor!”
As the judge rose, Penelope shouted again.
“What is it now?”
Pointing a trembling finger toward Marican, who was leaving with Ruan, Penelope cried,“If my daughter has been found guilty of treason, and by Imperial law her relatives are to be exiled, then the Duchess of Canoloup should be exiled as well!”
“What did you say?”
The judge turned sharply toward Penelope, then glanced at Marican.
“Whatever her current title may be, that girl was born of me! She is my daughter!”
The courtroom froze.
“…That is…” The judge hesitated, clearly uncertain.
Before he could answer, Harmon rose from his seat.
“Madam, forgive me, but that’s impossible.”
“Why? The judge himself said that the traitor’s kin must also be banished! That means both myself and her sister—Marican—must be exiled! Are you excusing her just because she’s a duchess now?”
Marican let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
Now you call me family?
Slowly, she stepped forward into the center of the courtroom.
“Your Highness, may I respond to that?” she asked calmly.
“Go ahead, Duchess,” Harmon allowed.
Turning to the nobles seated nearby, Marican addressed them evenly.
“Sir Gerald. Sir Dominic. I believe both of you attended the last Imperial ball, did you not?”
The two men exchanged glances before nodding.
“Yes, Duchess, we were there.”
“Then you must recall what the defendant claimed that night.”
Claimed?
After a pause, realization dawned on Gerald’s face.
“Ah—yes, I remember now. The young lady declared before everyone that you and the Baroness of Beanoman were complete strangers—that you were of common birth. It nearly prevented your marriage to the Duke of Canolouf”
“Thank you, Sir Gerald.”
Marican inclined her head politely, then turned to Penelope, whose face had gone pale with shock.
“You heard that, didn’t you, Madam? At the Imperial ball, your daughter herself publicly declared before all the nobles that we had no relation whatsoever. His Majesty the Emperor is aware of that statement as well.”
“What?”
Penelope blinked rapidly, recalling that she hadn’t attended the ball. But she remembered hearing from Lucianne afterward—about how the girl had tried to stab Marican and was arrested for it.
So… that was true?
Penelope had hoped that accusing Marican as kin would make Ruan spare her from exile—but now she realized there was truly no way out.
She collapsed to her knees.
Luci… there’s no saving you now, is there?
“Does that answer your question?” the judge asked gently.
Penelope said nothing, lowering her head.
“Then the trial is concluded.”
The guards moved forward, escorting Antwait, Lucianne, and the stunned Penelope out of the courtroom.
“Sir Gerald,” Dominic murmured as they watched them leave. “As a parent myself, I must say—that woman is cruel.”
Gerald sighed. “Indeed. I never thought highly of the Baroness, but now I almost pity the Duchess. To her, that woman’s only daughter is Lucianne.”
“Let’s go,” Dominic said softly. They bowed slightly toward Ruan and Marican before leaving.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Ruan asked quietly, seeing the faint shadow in Marican’s eyes after Penelope’s last words.
“I’m fine, Ruan. I expected this. It doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact… I finally feel certain they’re no longer my family.”
Then she lifted her gaze toward him, her tone light but firm.
“Still… are you really sending Lucianne to that mine?”
“Yes,” Ruan replied coldly. “For her, execution would be mercy.”
She dared to harm my wife—and shows not a single ounce of remorse.
“Is it truly that horrible? So dreadful that one would beg for death instead?” Marican asked quietly, her brow furrowing.
“The work itself is brutal,” Ruan explained. “But truthfully, it’s not a mine anymore.”
At her puzzled look, he continued.
“Axtupia used to be a mineral site, but it was long depleted and abandoned. One of the previous emperors—Emperor Yuanbar—turned it into a labor camp for convicts. The region stays frozen year-round, the ground solid ice. Digging there is nearly impossible. Even grown men struggle to survive.”
He paused, his eyes hardening.
“But the real reason it’s called a living hell lies elsewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“No one can escape from there,” he said simply.
“No one?” Marican repeated, frowning.
“When prisoners enter, they’re fitted with special shackles on their ankles. If they move too far from the mine’s boundaries, the shackles tighten until the ankles are severed. The blades are laced with poison—it rots the wound slowly. The poison isn’t strong enough to kill quickly, so they suffer in agony for days before death.”
Marican’s eyes widened, her face pale.
“Such a place truly exists? That’s worse than hell itself.”
“That’s why people call it that,” Ruan said.
“Are there women imprisoned there too?” she asked.
“Not many,” he admitted, “but a few. Every inmate there has committed crimes of murder or higher. She won’t be completely alone—assuming she can behave.”
Knowing Lucianne’s temperament, Ruan doubted she would.
“Why was her sentence changed? Isn’t treason punishable by death?” Marican asked, still trying to understand.
Ruan lowered his gaze slightly.
“The Baroness’s visit changed my mind. Her mother, her sister—they only ever think of themselves. I couldn’t allow her an easy death.”
Then, as he drew her gently into his arms, Ruan whispered to himself,
Not after what they did to you.
